


Stretch

by Zenniet



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Bondage, Breeding Kink, Dom/sub, Double Penetration, Double Penetration in One Hole, Double Vaginal Penetration, Implied Pregnancy Kink, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Pregnancy Kink, Rope Bondage, Sticky, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Vaginal Fingering, Valve Fingering (Transformers)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-15 00:43:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19284592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zenniet/pseuds/Zenniet
Summary: Tailgate is a nice dom for Swerve and Cyclonus





	Stretch

"Ahah- I nnnnever expected this from y-you of all bots!" Swerve half stammered half laughed out as Tailgate felt further and further down his frame, tiny digits dipping and playing with transformation seams. A giggle rose up from Tailgate's vocalizer. His digits easily penetrated transformation seams that Swerve couldn't even get into himself, and other bots certainly couldn't access. Tailgate reveled in playing with previously untouched wires. Shudders wracked the red mini's frame nonstop, waves of tremors overtaking his body with ever single movement Tailgate warranted Swerve deserved.

"Do you like this one?" Tailgate asked with a smile in his voice as his digits dove and rubbed against the wires past the crease between Swerve's pelvic plating and his thigh. Swerve's servo shot up to cover his mouth and restrain the moan that threatened to burst out. Tailgate only laughed, "Aw, come on, I want to hear you," He briefly shifted his gaze from Swerve to the edge of the berth, "And I'm sure he does, too."

At the corner of the berth, on his knees with his servos tied and cuffed behind his back, was Cyclonus. Just behind Tailgate and still within the reach of the white minibot. Red optics tracked every move that Tailgate subjected Swerve to. The jet's cooling fans were a low hum, but heat came off of him in waves and his EM field was almost threatening in its eagerness to mesh with the two minibots'. Cyclonus noticed Swerve glancing over to him as well, and he pushed his field harder against the red mini's, making Swerve's grip on Tailgate's forearms tighten.

"You like touching me?" Tailgate held one of Swerve's servos and shifted it to rest against his slim waist, "Holding me?" Swerve eagerly, wordlessly nodded in response. Tailgate leaned down further, fitting himself easily- with much less struggle than other, larger bots- between Swerve's legs. He pressed their forehelms together and let their EM fields dance with one another, wherever they merged singing with charge and want and appreciation. A deep, caring appreciation.

Swerve didn't realize he'd popped his spike panel until Tailgate's servo was on his shaft. He moved to stammer out an apology, only for Tailgate's light laugh to cut him off.

"You're so sweet, Swerve." His servo fit Swerve's spike better than any bot the mini had ever been with. "No overloading 'til I tell you to, 'kay?" Swerve nodded again.

Tailgate suddenly leaned off of Swerve, leaving him whimpering in his absence.

"Hush, I'll be right back." He disappeared into another room, out of sight, leaving just Swerve and Cyclonus.

Without Tailgate, Cyclonus almost seemed shy. Embarrassed. Of course, not as much as Swerve was, but still enough to make him look less daunting. Kneeling, bound, gagged, his spike and valve on full display, this was the most attractive Swerve's ever seen him. The mini's servos played with the blanket beneath them,

"Ah, frag, I- heh, is it weird that I, like, really wanna touch you?" He laughed nervously, "I mean, Tailgate didn't tell me I could so I guess I can't? But- frag you're hot."

"You sweet talking my conjunx without me?" Tailgate laughed, leaning on the doorway to the berthroom. “Don’t bother, I told him he’s not allowed to talk.” As he stepped in, he kept his servos behind his back. Only when he arrived at the berth did he show Swerve what he had with him, swinging his servos in front of him to show off that he was holding a smooth, sleek, black rope. "I figured that it would only be fair, seeing as I have Cyclonus as trussed up."

Tailgate took Swerve's servos, holding them behind his back and tying them there. There was more rope than necessary for such a small frame, so Tailgate's digits twisted the slim, black rope to make intricate designs all across Swerve's frame, his arms, his chest, his legs, until he was kneeling on the berth akin to Cyclonus.

"Now, you loved touching me, how do you feel?" Tailgate asked, sitting back. Swerve tried to writhe in his binding, only to not be able to make very much headway. He let out sigh, his voice mixing in with it to make a high, airy whine.

Tailgate responded by letting his servo rest on Swerve's hip. His digits found their way to his valve, panels long since opened.

"Doesn't this make it feel even better when I touch you, now?"

Swerve nodded eagerly. Tailgate took that as the right answer and pushed two digits into Swerve, raking his digit tips along his sensitive mesh walls.

"Hmmm, do you want to spike Cyclonus? I'm trying to decide what to do with him," Tailgate mused with a giggle, "We could both spike him. That sound okay?" Swerve nodded again, certain that if he said anything it would ruin the moment. "Sweeerve, I need an answer. Tell me what you want to do to my conjunx."

"R-really I think I'm gonna let you take the front s-seat on that one," Swerve stammered out as Tailgate kept pumping his digits into his valve, the wet sound of the motion easily audible in the room.

"I think we should both spike you." He stated, not giving Swerve any chance to object, not that he would have, before he got up to remove Cyclonus' bindings. With a soft click, Cyclonus sighed and brought his servos in front of his frame, rubbing his wrists.

"You want to spike Swerve with me?" Cyclonus responded with a glance towards Swerve and a gentle purr of his engine. Once he finished undoing the ties, he returned his digits to Swerve's sloppy, dripping valve. His visor shone on the other's face as he glanced up to see the red mini looking down at him, face flushed. Tailgate tilted his helm, "Still down, Swerve?"

"Yeah, just- whatever you guys want." Though, this non-committal answer wasn't enough for Tailgate, who didn't stop his digits probing the other mini's valve,

"That's not an answerrr," He sung, rubbing at Swerve's ceiling node. His charge was almost audible as it crackled along just beneath the surface of his plating.

"Frag, Tailgate," Swerve glancing down at his own interface array, "Y'might wanna ease up there,"

Tailgate knew very well what Swerve meant. The red mini's visor was sparking, little arc of charge were apparent on his plating, his servos clenched and unclenched in their cuffs, Tailgate could practically feel how close he was to an overload. Yet, he didn't stop his motions.

"Tailgaaaate-" Swerve whined, longing to reach out and grab onto Tailgate, touch him, hold him, anything as his charge crackled along his plating. Tailgate's digits, though short, easily reached Swerve's ceiling node. He rubbed the tips of his digits against it in little circles, his knuckles nudging against the opposite wall of Swerve's valve.

"Overload for us, Swerve." His thumb brushed over Swerve's anterior node and sent him over the edge. White thighs trembled and his valve pulsed and quivered around Tailgate's digits, lubricant bubbling out across white digits. Swerve's mouth fell open, hot, shuddering moans and vents left his systems and he tugged violently on his bindings. By the time Tailgate had worked him down from his overload, Swerve was a shuddering mess, transfluid streaked across his front and lubricant still dripping from his valve.

“Good boy,” Tailgate’s other servo stroked down the side of Swerve’s helm, leaning in to nuzzle his faceplate to Swerve’s cheek. “You should be loose and-” Tailgate wiggled his lubricant coated digits in front of Swerve’s face, “ _wet_ enough to take the two of us now.”

Swerve was still just a little out of it when Tailgate suddenly nudged his fingers against Swerve’s lips. Wordlessly, Swerve obediently took them in his mouth and laved over them with his glossa. He’d never tasted his own lubricant before but as long as it was off of Tailgate’s digits, he could get _addicted_ to it.

“Fix him up for me, Cyc?” Tailgate pulled his digits from Swerve’s glossa and inched back away from the other minibot. Swerve didn’t know what Tailgate meant until Cyclonus was picking Swerve up and moving him around like a doll, the lager mech leaning back against the wall behind the berth, and Swerve sitting between his legs. Tailgate reached out with one servo and undid all of Swerve’s rope bindings with a single tug.

“How would you prefer to do this? I was just going to tie your servos up in the front instead, so they don’t scratch Cyc’s plating, but if you would rather not have them tied that’s alright, too.” Tailgate began winding the rope around his servo, organizing it to put away.

“Maybe untied, please? If that’s alright?” Swerve asked tentatively as he inspected his wrist joints.

“Anything’s alright, Swerve.” Tailgate set the rope aside and let his servos begin their slow journey from Swerve's shoulders down to his pelvic plating. “You still okay with this?”

“O-of course! Yeah, it’s all good.” Swerve stuttered more out of excitement and nervousness than hesitation.

Tailgate made a small ‘go ahead’ gesture to Cyclonus and Swerve felt the mech’s hot spike pressurize against his aft plating. Swerve gasped at the hot plating against his aft, he wiggled his hips a little, eager to have Cyclonus inside him.

“Bo-both of you at once, right?” He confirmed and Tailgate nodded in response, his visor bright.

“Let’s see how you do with just Cyc first.” Tailgate reached out his servo and gently rubbed circles on Swerve’s belly while Cyclonus picked him up by the hips. The menacing-looking mech was more gentle than Swerve had expected, very slowly bringing his hips down and keeping his own voice quiet to be able to hear any complaints Swerve may have. Though, with that thick spike lighting up his sensors, he had nothing negative to say.

“Oooooh-” He bit his lip and let Cyclonus push him down until their plating was flush, his back leaning up against the jet’s chest as he rested on top of his pelvic plating. Tailgate’s servo rested on top of Swerve’s plating, his thumb idle stroking Swerve’s anterior node, sometimes pulling at his valve lips to see Cyclonus’ spike stretching him.

“Alright, let’s see how you do with both of us,” Tailgate nodded to Cyclonus, who lifted Swerve until he was almost off of his spike, then once again slowly lowered him, this time pushing his valve to take Tailgate’s spike as well. The stretch stung, hot pain lancing through Swerve’s systems. It didn’t hurt so much that he would tell them he had to stop though, and he was sure that the pain would turn to pleasure soon enough.

He was proven right when Tailgate gave the command to Cyclonus to begin moving the red minibot. Cyclonus didn’t move his hips too much, but Tailgate seemed like he was setting his own pace. Breathy moans left Swerve’s vocalizer as he held onto Tailgate’s shoulders.

“Is this alright, Swerve?” Tailgate asked, looking at Swerve as he moved along their spikes.

“Mph- frag, yes, more than,” Swerve was already having trouble focusing on Tailgate’s face, his visual feed refusing to work. Hell, his _processor_ was refusing to work. He was surprised he managed to say as much as he did, too much of him was focused on how damn _good_ he was feeling. Charge was already once again running through his circuits, tingling in the tips of his digits and spreading heat through his frame.

“You gonna overload again for us?” Tailgate dropped a servo down to rub at Swerve’s anterior node. “Get our spikes even wetter? Beg for it.”

“Huh?” Swerve, processor still hazy with charge, didn’t quite catch what Tailgate had demanded.

“I _said_ , beg us to let you overload. Show us how much you want it.”

“Mmm- your spikes feel so good inside me,” He said muzzily, his processor coming back to him. “Please let me overload on your spikes, I’m so _close_ , I need it, _please!_ ”

“Good boy. Overload for us, Swerve.”

Swerve’s back arched, he pressed against Cyclonus’ front, shivering and writhing as charge whipped through his frame, valve bearing down on their spike and coating them with lubricant. Sharp, delicious moans left his vocalizer and his servos gripped at Tailgate’s frame. When he came down he was dizzy, but his array was still charged. He noticed, too, that Tailgate and Cyclonus had stopped.

“Huh? You can- y’can keep going if you want…” He didn’t want to push them, but he didn’t want them to think that they had to stop.

“You sure? Two overloads can make someone pretty sensitive.” Tailgate asked.

“Positive! I… I actually want you to keep going, if that’s alright with you.”

“Oh, it’s more than alright with us.” Tailgate returned to the teasing voice he’d been wearing before, his servo starting at Swerve’s chest and gliding down his frame. Cyclonus began moving once again.

Though he was able to keep his voice even, Tailgate’s hips were beginning to stuter. His frame burned as it pressed up against Swerve’s, the two minibots pressing their foreheads together, Swerve undoubtedly wanting to kiss him.

It wasn’t long before Tailgate overloaded, hot transfluid streaking in Swerve’s valve. Swerve let out a whine and Tailgate let his engine purr to show Swerve he’d done well. He pulled out and scooted over on the berth.

“Hey, Cyclonus?” He looked over to Cyclonus, ignoring Swerve momentarily. “Take whatever position you want, and don’t be afraid to rough him up a bit. He should be loose enough by now.” Even as he spoke, and as he appeared to be looking at Cyclonus, he was keeping a close optic on Swerve, carefully observing for any reaction, which Swerve showed none of besides a rev of his engine.

Suddenly, his front was being pressed down into the berth, his aft propped up by his knees. Cyclonus slammed into him, the head ov his spike roughly jabbing at Swerve’s ceiling node with each thrust. The red mini let out a cry on every other push,

“Pleasepleaseplease _please- ah! Yesss!”_ He moaned out, digits grabbing at the sheets below them as Cyclonuse bred him. Now _that’s_ a thought, Cyclonus pushing against his gestation chamber, spike raking along his sensors, they didn’t even have to bare their sparks, just the thought of Cyclonus fragging him like he was going to put a sparkling in him had Swerve screaming.

As Cyclonus finally overloaded in him, Swerve felt his plating stretch just a little with the sheer amount of transfluid that was being dumped into him. The fill, the stretch, Cyclonus’ claws digging into his hips and his frame hunched over his, Swerve was tumbling into his third, grateful overload on Cyclonus’ spike.

He couldn’t hide his shaking when Cyclonus pulled out of him, transfluid trailing down their thighs. Tailgate hopped off the berth and kneeled at the foot of it, where Swerve’s helm was, and nuzzled against his cheek.

“You did so well,” He hummed, “Do you want to come get cleaned up?”

Swerve nodded and let Tailgate help him get up, Cyclonus following close behind.


End file.
